FIC: "JLA: Necessary Force" (Part 14: "Sticking Place" - 1st Half)
Hi all! And Happy New Year once more. :-)
And as part of my New Year's Resolutions, I worked a bit on "NF" over my Christmas break, and got another part completed! So, here is the first half of it, and the second half to be posted asap. *whew* ( We're back to seeing how Superman is doing in his escape attempt from the enemy base.) It's my last day in my hometown for my (way too short) Christmas holiday; tomorrow I fly back to the coast to get ready to go back to school. (so not ready to go back!) Lots to accomplish today, so without further ado, here's Part 14 of the ole Epic!
Thank you again for your tremendous patience and support, dear readers! (and thanks again,mithen and damos for your awesome "Necessary Force" book, and darkj3 for your gorgeous artwork from Part 2! (seen here!)
As usual, *sigh* I am encountering difficulties with LJ and posting (why oh WHY does this always happen to me when I try to post fic???) and the LJ Cut won't work properly, and I keep having weird spacing difficulties no matter how I try to fix them. *frustrated* But I'm just posting as is, and so, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!
- Pax :-)
Title: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 14: "Sticking Place" (1st half)
Author: Paxwolf
Fandom: JLA/Justice League
Rating: PG-13 (R in parts)
Warnings: Mature Situations, Language, Violence
Disclaimer: The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and their parent company. Mine are owned by me. ;-)
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
Summary of This Part: Superman's powers are waning yet further, and as he struggles to escape from Ayestrom's stronghold, he must fend off new obstacles and just maybe makes some new allies.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
By Paxwolf
NOTE: Please see the warnings, acknowledgements, and disclaimers back in the First Part of this story, "In Terrorem". Thank you.
Part XIV:
“Sticking Place”
(A)
The little girl clutched at Laurie's sleeve. “Auntie Laurie?”
She turned to look down at Janey’s pale face, and reached out to grasp her hand. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“D-do you ... please, when ... when can we go home?”
Laurie swallowed and stared helplessly at her for a moment, and then forced out a smile. “Soon, sweetie, soon.”
Janey stood up, wobbling slightly, and looked very seriously down at Laurie’s face. “That’s what you said yesterday!” she said, face scrunching up as she tried not to cry again. “When is soon? Why... why isn’t Mommy coming?” And despite the child's best efforts, a tear slipped down her cheek.
“She is coming, Janey,” Laurie said, as firmly as she could manage. “And not just Mommy, but all sorts of good and kind people, to find us here and help us all go home.”
“Like the police?”
Laurie smiled, and tenderly chucked the girl under the chin. “Like the police. And all the other kids’ moms and dads. We just have to be strong, and hold on until they can come.”
“But …”
“Can you do that, sweetheart? Be strong? Be brave?”
Janey looked at her doubtfully. “I’m not brave. That’s for firemen and policemen and … and superheroes.”
“But you are brave,” piped up an unexpected voice from Laurie's other side. She turned to see young Kerry staring at Janey earnestly. “You are. It's just like Ms. Findlay said. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
Startled, Laurie looked over at him. The boy had stopped shaking, and now sat in an almost preternatural calm.
Shock? She wondered.
“Me?” Janey asked him, eyes wide.
“For a little kid,” he grinned at her, and shoved a little at her arm.
She giggled, then pouted at him. “I’m not a little kid,” she said petulantly. “I’m big.”
Kerry laughed. “Sure you are.”
But she’s right, Laurie thought suddenly, sadness filling her again. She’s not a little kid, not any more. Not after this.
She watched as the two children tussled a moment, and cast a grateful smile at Kerry. Smart kid. Strong.
He and his classmate Jessica had been big helps. A day ago, Laurie had finally got it together enough to realize that the sitting around and waiting for something to happen was far harder on the kids than nearly anything else. So, using the older kids as go-betweens with the three adults, she, Mei and Lincoln had organized a series of small group activities for their students, concentration exercises mostly, along with some engaging imagination games. To her own surprise, this plan had worked wonders. The majority of the children had relaxed somewhat, and most had been able to sleep that following night right through. She and her colleagues were now planning more for the day to come, and had given some thought to incorporating actual lessons into them.
Active minds are healthy minds!
She’d always believed that philosophy, and now, she couldn’t underestimate the value of distraction. Who knew that the Parts of Speech and the times tables could have such multiple applications?
She stretched her sore muscles with a grunt, and attempted a smile. Well, I should get to work then. Pitter-patter, let's get at 'er!
She lifted her head from her bitter humour at the sound of a lock being turned. And then froze as she spotted their enclosure’s gate opening and yet more sentries at its threshold. But she saw that the guards were laden with trays and boxes this time and relaxed slightly.
Feeding time at the zoo, she thought wearily, and caught Lincoln’s and Mei’s eyes. Linc nodded a little at her, and then cast her a quick wink, and Mei, she was encouraged to see, gave her a wan little smile. She smiled back, though it felt like it took the weight of the world to do so.
She rose to her feet tiredly as a guard gestured impatiently at her and stepped forward to receive the first packages.
How many meals has there now been in this godawful place? she wondered. She realized she had lost count, and that thought disturbed her for reasons she couldn't quite fathom.
How many days had they now been there, eating the bits of plain - and ofttimes stale - food they were given, sleeping on the floor curled into sleeping bags and blankets, using the provided Porta-Potties, Porta-Potties that were beginning to smell rather ferociously.
What I wouldn’t give for a shower, she caught herself thinking, even as Jessica began to help her distribute the sandwiches to the class. Damnit, no! Forget the damned shower. What I wouldn’t give to be out of here entirely, all of us! Safe and sound.
Safe. The thought of safety seemed so very far away. So distant. So impossible.
You stop that right now, Lauren Findlay! She berated herself even as she gave out food and reassurances in equal measure to her circle of children. No giving in to despair. Not now. These kids deserve more than that.
“They will come for us,” she whispered to herself, settling down and sliding an arm around Janey’s small shoulders.
It had taken her two days to get the girl to try to eat anything. It was a relief to see her nibbling now at her bread. Sarah, I will take of her for you. I will.
“And when they come, we’ll be safe?” the small voice jolted Laurie out of her thoughts.
She tucked Janey further against her side, smoothing her pale hair back out of her eyes.
“Yes, sweetie. We’ll be safe.”
She felt they would have been okay if she could somehow know that they would be left alone. But as more time passed, and no one came to tell them what was happening, and no one came to rescue or ransom them, she began to find it increasingly hard to maintain her sense of hope. And she began to fear that being left alone was, after all, too great a thing to ask.
Something was going to happen soon. She could feel it.
But she didn’t know if it would be a good something, or something bad. She didn’t know.
Safe.
And that not knowing was what she feared most of all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Safe.
It seemed like such a concept was an increasingly alien one.
Superman snorted at himself, strained fingers tightening on the rung above his head. Alien. That's rich.
He shook his head hard and forced himself back to concentrating on the task at hand.
The next three levels of the gargantuan base were proving even more of a challenge to climb through than he had anticipated. Not being able to use conventional means to ascend may have been a contributing factor, he mused as he had pushed onwards and upwards. And what was worse, he couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that he was abandoning the hostages. Leaving, just when they needed him most.
Superman grimly shook his head, trying to banish the fresh sense of anguish and guilt that crept over him again. But what real choice did he have?
“I’ll come back for you,” he whispered to the encroaching dark. “I won’t leave you to him. I promise.”
There was no answer in the chill darkness, and he found himself shivering again. The cold that had enveloped him from his self-freezing ordeal had not yet dissipated.
Drawing a deep breath, ignoring the chills racing up and down his spine, Superman dangled from a ladder’s rung in the middle of a deep elevator shaft. He pressed himself as closely to the wall as possible, trying to stop his body from betraying him with its violent shivering. Flashlight beams suddenly sparked through the blackness above him again, sweeping the shaft in dangerously wide arcs.
He hung on desperately with weakened fingers, knowing he could not have flown out of that endlessly long shaft right then to save his life. And if the searchers above decided to start climbing down the ladder themselves, he was done for.
It had taken a seeming eternity for him just to reach this shaft, disable the meta-scanner protecting it, force his way through the doors, and make the agonizing ascent to where he now clung. With his x-ray vision, he could see he was finally abreast of the first regular basement below the ground floor of the mansion above. But every time he had attempted to just fly up the shaft, he had lost his focus and begun to freefall, forced to scrabble madly at the sides of the shaft or at the cables themselves to halt his downward plunge.
He couldn’t remember the last time his flying power had failed him so badly. It was a disturbing reminder of just how depleted he’d become. Flying was so much a part of him, so unconscious in its ability, it felt like he had lost a limb. He’d had to flatten himself hard against the wall every time the elevator had hurtled past. Rarely had he felt so weak outside of prolonged Kryptonite exposure. His ploy to cool his body down enough to pass through the gauntlet of sensors had truly taken a lot out of … but no, he thought harshly.
If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t just that. It’s everything. The battles, those damn weapons, the unceasing stress and work these past weeks, the crisis, the … the nightmares.
He swallowed. Then with effort, he pushed the memories back out of conscious thought. He wondered if Batman had been fooled by his claims that he had finally gained control of his subconscious mind, that the dreams had no longer been a problem. He sighed and shook his head.
I seriously doubt it.
If it hadn’t been for J’onn's intervention, he knew he wouldn’t have made it out of the Cold. That little corridor several floors below where he now hung would have been the end of him. But J’onn had found him and forced him to struggle against the seductive pull of the warm darkness. And behind J’onn’s consciousness, he had distinctly sensed the hovering presence of Bruce, and of Diana. He held onto the feeling tightly, grasping at the whisper-touch of contact, feeling less alone at the memories.
I wish I could have kept them with me, he thought wistfully, and then turned his anger on himself for his momentary weakness. Or at least not destroyed my communicator!
Their voices, and Barbara’s too, would have been an extremely reassuring sound right about then.
I’m not done for yet, he gritted his teeth at the thought. J’onn and the others saved me. I’m not going to let them down.
So he hung on, forcing his stiff fingers to tighten around the cold metal rung, muscles trembling in effort and with the lingering, painful cold that permeated everywhere.
The lights swept closer to him. He swallowed again, his mouth dry.
On top of everything else, he had been assailed by a relentless thirst, so much of his body’s moisture having been used up in the freezing process. And then there was the hollow gnawing deep in his stomach. He tried and failed to recall when he had last eaten anything. Surely back in the Watchtower … but no, he hadn’t taken the time. It hadn’t seemed like a priority then, and normally he could abstain from any nourishment for a very long time. But this situation was, of course, far from normal. And he could feel that his body was dangerously dehydrated, as well as famished. And with no fresh solar exposure recently, in addition to all the energy he had been expending, it was hardly surprising that he was feeling, well, a little less than in exemplary shape.
He grinned a bit sardonically.
The beams swept off to the opposite wall of the shaft, and he hauled himself up to another rung lying in deeper shadow. He inhaled sharply against the increased pull across his chest, feeling again the deep ache of unhealed ribs.
Had that last battle really been only the day before yesterday? It couldn’t have been. It had felt like …
… a lifetime ago.
A battle that had very nearly ended with him blown to bits or incinerated.
It wasn’t too often that he faced something or someone with the power to truly hurt him. Never mind something that could actually obliterate him.
He had tried not to dwell too much on those facts, brushing aside the concern of the others. But the sheer magnitude of the power they faced here frightened him. The damage Ayestrom and his army, his weapons and machines could do to the world! Only J’onn and Bruce - and perhaps Diana - knew how deep his fear actually lay, and that very concern for the safety of the world was perhaps the biggest reason they had allowed him to take on this leg of the mission at all.
He shuddered at the memory of that most recent battle, feeling again the searing burns on his skin when the Drill had exploded, feeling again the shrapnel as it had torn into his shoulder, arm, and side, feeling again the concussive force that had nearly caved his chest in. He closed his eyes and forced the memory away, and then on its heels, like a sudden flash-flood, the images and accompanying emotions from his most recent trial of nightmares rushed in, pouring inexorably into him in a wave of mind-numbing dread.
No!
Feverishly, he fought them back down. Not now!
But they wouldn’t stay down. They surged up, sharper, grasping at him, more inexplicably out of control than ever before.
Although the dark dreams hovered at the edge of his mind constantly now, he was usually able to suppress them enough to function. But now, in his fatigue, they overwhelmed him, swarming over his crumbling defences in a black tide of terror.
He tried to push them away, fighting against the sheer panic that threatened to take him.
I will not let them control me! I will not!
The memories surged up again as if in response, more powerful and devastating than ever. In frantic desperation, he flailed to find an anchor amidst the sea of churning horror. But there was nothing, no safe place to cling to. He was alone … he was adrift, and he would drown in them …
Bruce.
At first the memory was tiny, a slender gossamer thread too weak to make much headway against the powerful blackness flooding his mind, but he grasped at it crazily anyway, and held fast. It grew in strength and brightness, a gleam of light amid the turbulent darkness and blood. And he remembered that in the end he hadn’t been alone. A friend had held him against the wave of darkness that had claimed him, and helped him fight back the crushing despair and terror.
He breathed in deeply, beating back the nightmares, and with an effort of will, opened his eyes. Only the cement wall and metal ladder met his gaze. He blinked. The visions of death and pain and possession faded from his mind’s eye as he concentrated on seeing Batman’s face in front of him, on feeling strong hands gripping his shoulders, keeping him still, keeping him sane.
Keeping him safe.
Shakily, Superman threw an arm over the rung and shook his head to clear it.
That had been the worst time yet. He had very nearly succumbed to the now waking images of his nightmare.
They’re getting stronger.
And the longer he stayed down there, the longer Ayestrom reigned free, he knew the worse they would get. If his memory of Bruce, alive, untouched, hadn’t anchored him to a memory of reality, he didn’t know what might have happened.
Bruce, I wonder if you know just how much you did for me that day.
He drew another shaky breath.
You stood by my side, and refused to let go.
Licking dry lips, he looked up at the louder sound of voices above him, and ruthlessly pushed down the last grasping tendrils of his dark dreams. He had to keep a clearer head.
He pulled himself another rung higher, and then started suddenly as a more powerful searchlight beam arced terrifyingly close to his position. Unable to press any closer to the wall, the metal rungs digging painfully into sore ribs, hips, shins, he wished then he could somehow become as immaterial as J’onn and slide right through the shaft wall itself.
The grass is always greener, he thought wryly, then froze as the beam swept right over his head. Come on, he willed up at the men above. Move off. No one here you need to worry about. Go away!
Just a little farther, another level and a few upper stories in the estate above, and he would be able to make it out. Even if he couldn’t fly right then to save his life, he would still be able to escape scot-free if he could only get back to the mansion proper. He was sure of it.
He wasn’t going to get that chance.
“Vamos, imbeciles!” sounded a guttural command from far above. Spanish this time. “Bajad ya! Ahora!”
He froze, and held his breath, listening. The order to climb down, despite the insult accompanying it, was being obeyed. He could make out the grunting of heavily armed soldiers as they began to slowly clamber down the ladders.
No! He thought in despair. I’m so close …
He could see the bright bits of light growing larger in the darkness of the upper shaft.
They must have finally cottoned on to the fact that their little sanctum has a spy within, he thought, trying not to give in to his frustration. That or else one of their worker-slaves is maybe making an escape attempt. Unlikely. Took the guards long enough. His mouth tightened. Just not quite long enough for me!
This time it would be no routine search patrol. Despite his abilities, despite his very best efforts, he had left enough of a trail that he had triggered the suspicions of the security forces deployed there.
Or else ... Ayestrom or his meta-powered lackeys already know I’m here.
He clamped down on that alarming idea and tried to think of a way out. Nothing popped to mind.
There was simply no way he could make it up to the mansion unspotted or unchallenged. And there certainly was no possibility of staying where he was.
The pinpricks of light grew bigger. The searchers drew closer.
What can I do?
He had no other choice.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his stiff fingers to pry loose from the ladder’s rungs, and stepped out over the dark emptiness. He hesitated for a fraction, gazing longingly up, where, for just an instant of x-ray focus, he caught a glimpse of the twilit sky above, just beginning to sprinkle with stars. He nearly ached head to toe with his desire to go up, to get out into the air, to escape.
If only he could…
He let go.
Superman fell. He could feel the levels he had paid such a high price to scale fly past his dropping form as surely as he felt the searing wind of his rapid descent as it sent his body into another paroxysm of shivering.
I was so close.
The bottom of the shaft rose up to meet him with terrifying suddenness. Summoning all of his willpower, he exerted every ounce of concentration on slowing his freefall just enough so that when he hit bottom, the noise of the impact wouldn’t carry to the search party now far above him.
Usually the power of flight came so effortlessly to him, perhaps the most joyful of the gifts bestowed upon him from the yellow sun and lighter gravity of his adopted home. But now, it took everything he had in him to simply slow his downward plunge enough to not hurtle straight through the elevator’s roof where it sat at the deepest level.
He was only partially successful. He still felt himself slam into the roof surface, feeling the unaccustomed pain of the bruising impact. But at least he hadn’t gone right through it. Even as he lay stunned for a moment, trying to reclaim his breath, he hoped he’d been able to muffle the sound enough that neither the men above nor anyone outside the elevator doors had heard him. He listened hard.
Nothing happened.
With a sigh of mingled relief and regret, he finally gathered his limbs beneath him and forced himself to his knees, peering down through the floor and around.
Thank goodness some of my abilities are still on track, he thought in gratitude.
‘On track’ may have been a bit of a stretch. Even using x-ray vision was exacting more of a strain and a greater degree of concentration than normal.
Seeing an all clear, he yanked off the trapdoor as quietly as he could and slid through, dropping silently down into the elevator proper. The guards must have been re-posted - he hoped - as he slipped through the doors that opened with their usual hiss. As fast as he could - at normal speed - without drawing notice, he limped down the corridor and into an unoccupied side tunnel. He sank down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest for warmth, struggling to calm his too-rapidly beating heart.
Great. Right back to where I started.
It was hard not to allow a morose flavour to leak into his thoughts. Don’t be an idiot, Clark, he chastised himself. You won’t do anyone any good like this.
He made a greater effort to beat down the depression and looked around him. Okay. What now?
Well, it wasn’t like he could very well sit here and just give up. So he would have to find another way out. He nodded to himself, determined to not let his willpower waver.
The hostages need me. The League is counting on me.
He thought of the poor denizens of the underground slum, people who were basically slaves to the war machine of Ayestrom.
Actually, it would appear that all of these people need help, he rectified, whether they realize it or not. We can’t let them go on this way.
He lifted his head. He had to keep moving. I’ll just have to find another route out of here, then. And I will.
---
To be continued! (and in fact, clicky here for the 2nd half of this part!)
All Previous Parts to JLA: "Necessary Force" can be found right HERE, at the NF Main Page. :-)
And as part of my New Year's Resolutions, I worked a bit on "NF" over my Christmas break, and got another part completed! So, here is the first half of it, and the second half to be posted asap. *whew* ( We're back to seeing how Superman is doing in his escape attempt from the enemy base.) It's my last day in my hometown for my (way too short) Christmas holiday; tomorrow I fly back to the coast to get ready to go back to school. (so not ready to go back!) Lots to accomplish today, so without further ado, here's Part 14 of the ole Epic!
Thank you again for your tremendous patience and support, dear readers! (and thanks again,mithen and damos for your awesome "Necessary Force" book, and darkj3 for your gorgeous artwork from Part 2! (seen here!)
As usual, *sigh* I am encountering difficulties with LJ and posting (why oh WHY does this always happen to me when I try to post fic???) and the LJ Cut won't work properly, and I keep having weird spacing difficulties no matter how I try to fix them. *frustrated* But I'm just posting as is, and so, nevertheless, I hope you enjoy!
- Pax :-)
Title: JLA: Necessary Force - Part 14: "Sticking Place" (1st half)
Author: Paxwolf
Fandom: JLA/Justice League
Rating: PG-13 (R in parts)
Warnings: Mature Situations, Language, Violence
Disclaimer: The JLA and its characters are owned by DC Comics and their parent company. Mine are owned by me. ;-)
Summary: When a powerful terrorist threatens the safety of the planet, the Justice League must go to extremes to stop him, and Superman and Batman may have to make the biggest sacrifice of all.
Summary of This Part: Superman's powers are waning yet further, and as he struggles to escape from Ayestrom's stronghold, he must fend off new obstacles and just maybe makes some new allies.
JLA
“Necessary Force”
By Paxwolf
NOTE: Please see the warnings, acknowledgements, and disclaimers back in the First Part of this story, "In Terrorem". Thank you.
Part XIV:
“Sticking Place”
(A)
The little girl clutched at Laurie's sleeve. “Auntie Laurie?”
She turned to look down at Janey’s pale face, and reached out to grasp her hand. “What is it, sweetheart?”
“D-do you ... please, when ... when can we go home?”
Laurie swallowed and stared helplessly at her for a moment, and then forced out a smile. “Soon, sweetie, soon.”
Janey stood up, wobbling slightly, and looked very seriously down at Laurie’s face. “That’s what you said yesterday!” she said, face scrunching up as she tried not to cry again. “When is soon? Why... why isn’t Mommy coming?” And despite the child's best efforts, a tear slipped down her cheek.
“She is coming, Janey,” Laurie said, as firmly as she could manage. “And not just Mommy, but all sorts of good and kind people, to find us here and help us all go home.”
“Like the police?”
Laurie smiled, and tenderly chucked the girl under the chin. “Like the police. And all the other kids’ moms and dads. We just have to be strong, and hold on until they can come.”
“But …”
“Can you do that, sweetheart? Be strong? Be brave?”
Janey looked at her doubtfully. “I’m not brave. That’s for firemen and policemen and … and superheroes.”
“But you are brave,” piped up an unexpected voice from Laurie's other side. She turned to see young Kerry staring at Janey earnestly. “You are. It's just like Ms. Findlay said. You’re one of the bravest people I know.”
Startled, Laurie looked over at him. The boy had stopped shaking, and now sat in an almost preternatural calm.
Shock? She wondered.
“Me?” Janey asked him, eyes wide.
“For a little kid,” he grinned at her, and shoved a little at her arm.
She giggled, then pouted at him. “I’m not a little kid,” she said petulantly. “I’m big.”
Kerry laughed. “Sure you are.”
But she’s right, Laurie thought suddenly, sadness filling her again. She’s not a little kid, not any more. Not after this.
She watched as the two children tussled a moment, and cast a grateful smile at Kerry. Smart kid. Strong.
He and his classmate Jessica had been big helps. A day ago, Laurie had finally got it together enough to realize that the sitting around and waiting for something to happen was far harder on the kids than nearly anything else. So, using the older kids as go-betweens with the three adults, she, Mei and Lincoln had organized a series of small group activities for their students, concentration exercises mostly, along with some engaging imagination games. To her own surprise, this plan had worked wonders. The majority of the children had relaxed somewhat, and most had been able to sleep that following night right through. She and her colleagues were now planning more for the day to come, and had given some thought to incorporating actual lessons into them.
Active minds are healthy minds!
She’d always believed that philosophy, and now, she couldn’t underestimate the value of distraction. Who knew that the Parts of Speech and the times tables could have such multiple applications?
She stretched her sore muscles with a grunt, and attempted a smile. Well, I should get to work then. Pitter-patter, let's get at 'er!
She lifted her head from her bitter humour at the sound of a lock being turned. And then froze as she spotted their enclosure’s gate opening and yet more sentries at its threshold. But she saw that the guards were laden with trays and boxes this time and relaxed slightly.
Feeding time at the zoo, she thought wearily, and caught Lincoln’s and Mei’s eyes. Linc nodded a little at her, and then cast her a quick wink, and Mei, she was encouraged to see, gave her a wan little smile. She smiled back, though it felt like it took the weight of the world to do so.
She rose to her feet tiredly as a guard gestured impatiently at her and stepped forward to receive the first packages.
How many meals has there now been in this godawful place? she wondered. She realized she had lost count, and that thought disturbed her for reasons she couldn't quite fathom.
How many days had they now been there, eating the bits of plain - and ofttimes stale - food they were given, sleeping on the floor curled into sleeping bags and blankets, using the provided Porta-Potties, Porta-Potties that were beginning to smell rather ferociously.
What I wouldn’t give for a shower, she caught herself thinking, even as Jessica began to help her distribute the sandwiches to the class. Damnit, no! Forget the damned shower. What I wouldn’t give to be out of here entirely, all of us! Safe and sound.
Safe. The thought of safety seemed so very far away. So distant. So impossible.
You stop that right now, Lauren Findlay! She berated herself even as she gave out food and reassurances in equal measure to her circle of children. No giving in to despair. Not now. These kids deserve more than that.
“They will come for us,” she whispered to herself, settling down and sliding an arm around Janey’s small shoulders.
It had taken her two days to get the girl to try to eat anything. It was a relief to see her nibbling now at her bread. Sarah, I will take of her for you. I will.
“And when they come, we’ll be safe?” the small voice jolted Laurie out of her thoughts.
She tucked Janey further against her side, smoothing her pale hair back out of her eyes.
“Yes, sweetie. We’ll be safe.”
She felt they would have been okay if she could somehow know that they would be left alone. But as more time passed, and no one came to tell them what was happening, and no one came to rescue or ransom them, she began to find it increasingly hard to maintain her sense of hope. And she began to fear that being left alone was, after all, too great a thing to ask.
Something was going to happen soon. She could feel it.
But she didn’t know if it would be a good something, or something bad. She didn’t know.
Safe.
And that not knowing was what she feared most of all.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Safe.
It seemed like such a concept was an increasingly alien one.
Superman snorted at himself, strained fingers tightening on the rung above his head. Alien. That's rich.
He shook his head hard and forced himself back to concentrating on the task at hand.
The next three levels of the gargantuan base were proving even more of a challenge to climb through than he had anticipated. Not being able to use conventional means to ascend may have been a contributing factor, he mused as he had pushed onwards and upwards. And what was worse, he couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that he was abandoning the hostages. Leaving, just when they needed him most.
Superman grimly shook his head, trying to banish the fresh sense of anguish and guilt that crept over him again. But what real choice did he have?
“I’ll come back for you,” he whispered to the encroaching dark. “I won’t leave you to him. I promise.”
There was no answer in the chill darkness, and he found himself shivering again. The cold that had enveloped him from his self-freezing ordeal had not yet dissipated.
Drawing a deep breath, ignoring the chills racing up and down his spine, Superman dangled from a ladder’s rung in the middle of a deep elevator shaft. He pressed himself as closely to the wall as possible, trying to stop his body from betraying him with its violent shivering. Flashlight beams suddenly sparked through the blackness above him again, sweeping the shaft in dangerously wide arcs.
He hung on desperately with weakened fingers, knowing he could not have flown out of that endlessly long shaft right then to save his life. And if the searchers above decided to start climbing down the ladder themselves, he was done for.
It had taken a seeming eternity for him just to reach this shaft, disable the meta-scanner protecting it, force his way through the doors, and make the agonizing ascent to where he now clung. With his x-ray vision, he could see he was finally abreast of the first regular basement below the ground floor of the mansion above. But every time he had attempted to just fly up the shaft, he had lost his focus and begun to freefall, forced to scrabble madly at the sides of the shaft or at the cables themselves to halt his downward plunge.
He couldn’t remember the last time his flying power had failed him so badly. It was a disturbing reminder of just how depleted he’d become. Flying was so much a part of him, so unconscious in its ability, it felt like he had lost a limb. He’d had to flatten himself hard against the wall every time the elevator had hurtled past. Rarely had he felt so weak outside of prolonged Kryptonite exposure. His ploy to cool his body down enough to pass through the gauntlet of sensors had truly taken a lot out of … but no, he thought harshly.
If I’m being honest with myself, it wasn’t just that. It’s everything. The battles, those damn weapons, the unceasing stress and work these past weeks, the crisis, the … the nightmares.
He swallowed. Then with effort, he pushed the memories back out of conscious thought. He wondered if Batman had been fooled by his claims that he had finally gained control of his subconscious mind, that the dreams had no longer been a problem. He sighed and shook his head.
I seriously doubt it.
If it hadn’t been for J’onn's intervention, he knew he wouldn’t have made it out of the Cold. That little corridor several floors below where he now hung would have been the end of him. But J’onn had found him and forced him to struggle against the seductive pull of the warm darkness. And behind J’onn’s consciousness, he had distinctly sensed the hovering presence of Bruce, and of Diana. He held onto the feeling tightly, grasping at the whisper-touch of contact, feeling less alone at the memories.
I wish I could have kept them with me, he thought wistfully, and then turned his anger on himself for his momentary weakness. Or at least not destroyed my communicator!
Their voices, and Barbara’s too, would have been an extremely reassuring sound right about then.
I’m not done for yet, he gritted his teeth at the thought. J’onn and the others saved me. I’m not going to let them down.
So he hung on, forcing his stiff fingers to tighten around the cold metal rung, muscles trembling in effort and with the lingering, painful cold that permeated everywhere.
The lights swept closer to him. He swallowed again, his mouth dry.
On top of everything else, he had been assailed by a relentless thirst, so much of his body’s moisture having been used up in the freezing process. And then there was the hollow gnawing deep in his stomach. He tried and failed to recall when he had last eaten anything. Surely back in the Watchtower … but no, he hadn’t taken the time. It hadn’t seemed like a priority then, and normally he could abstain from any nourishment for a very long time. But this situation was, of course, far from normal. And he could feel that his body was dangerously dehydrated, as well as famished. And with no fresh solar exposure recently, in addition to all the energy he had been expending, it was hardly surprising that he was feeling, well, a little less than in exemplary shape.
He grinned a bit sardonically.
The beams swept off to the opposite wall of the shaft, and he hauled himself up to another rung lying in deeper shadow. He inhaled sharply against the increased pull across his chest, feeling again the deep ache of unhealed ribs.
Had that last battle really been only the day before yesterday? It couldn’t have been. It had felt like …
… a lifetime ago.
A battle that had very nearly ended with him blown to bits or incinerated.
It wasn’t too often that he faced something or someone with the power to truly hurt him. Never mind something that could actually obliterate him.
He had tried not to dwell too much on those facts, brushing aside the concern of the others. But the sheer magnitude of the power they faced here frightened him. The damage Ayestrom and his army, his weapons and machines could do to the world! Only J’onn and Bruce - and perhaps Diana - knew how deep his fear actually lay, and that very concern for the safety of the world was perhaps the biggest reason they had allowed him to take on this leg of the mission at all.
He shuddered at the memory of that most recent battle, feeling again the searing burns on his skin when the Drill had exploded, feeling again the shrapnel as it had torn into his shoulder, arm, and side, feeling again the concussive force that had nearly caved his chest in. He closed his eyes and forced the memory away, and then on its heels, like a sudden flash-flood, the images and accompanying emotions from his most recent trial of nightmares rushed in, pouring inexorably into him in a wave of mind-numbing dread.
No!
Feverishly, he fought them back down. Not now!
But they wouldn’t stay down. They surged up, sharper, grasping at him, more inexplicably out of control than ever before.
Although the dark dreams hovered at the edge of his mind constantly now, he was usually able to suppress them enough to function. But now, in his fatigue, they overwhelmed him, swarming over his crumbling defences in a black tide of terror.
He tried to push them away, fighting against the sheer panic that threatened to take him.
I will not let them control me! I will not!
The memories surged up again as if in response, more powerful and devastating than ever. In frantic desperation, he flailed to find an anchor amidst the sea of churning horror. But there was nothing, no safe place to cling to. He was alone … he was adrift, and he would drown in them …
Bruce.
At first the memory was tiny, a slender gossamer thread too weak to make much headway against the powerful blackness flooding his mind, but he grasped at it crazily anyway, and held fast. It grew in strength and brightness, a gleam of light amid the turbulent darkness and blood. And he remembered that in the end he hadn’t been alone. A friend had held him against the wave of darkness that had claimed him, and helped him fight back the crushing despair and terror.
He breathed in deeply, beating back the nightmares, and with an effort of will, opened his eyes. Only the cement wall and metal ladder met his gaze. He blinked. The visions of death and pain and possession faded from his mind’s eye as he concentrated on seeing Batman’s face in front of him, on feeling strong hands gripping his shoulders, keeping him still, keeping him sane.
Keeping him safe.
Shakily, Superman threw an arm over the rung and shook his head to clear it.
That had been the worst time yet. He had very nearly succumbed to the now waking images of his nightmare.
They’re getting stronger.
And the longer he stayed down there, the longer Ayestrom reigned free, he knew the worse they would get. If his memory of Bruce, alive, untouched, hadn’t anchored him to a memory of reality, he didn’t know what might have happened.
Bruce, I wonder if you know just how much you did for me that day.
He drew another shaky breath.
You stood by my side, and refused to let go.
Licking dry lips, he looked up at the louder sound of voices above him, and ruthlessly pushed down the last grasping tendrils of his dark dreams. He had to keep a clearer head.
He pulled himself another rung higher, and then started suddenly as a more powerful searchlight beam arced terrifyingly close to his position. Unable to press any closer to the wall, the metal rungs digging painfully into sore ribs, hips, shins, he wished then he could somehow become as immaterial as J’onn and slide right through the shaft wall itself.
The grass is always greener, he thought wryly, then froze as the beam swept right over his head. Come on, he willed up at the men above. Move off. No one here you need to worry about. Go away!
Just a little farther, another level and a few upper stories in the estate above, and he would be able to make it out. Even if he couldn’t fly right then to save his life, he would still be able to escape scot-free if he could only get back to the mansion proper. He was sure of it.
He wasn’t going to get that chance.
“Vamos, imbeciles!” sounded a guttural command from far above. Spanish this time. “Bajad ya! Ahora!”
He froze, and held his breath, listening. The order to climb down, despite the insult accompanying it, was being obeyed. He could make out the grunting of heavily armed soldiers as they began to slowly clamber down the ladders.
No! He thought in despair. I’m so close …
He could see the bright bits of light growing larger in the darkness of the upper shaft.
They must have finally cottoned on to the fact that their little sanctum has a spy within, he thought, trying not to give in to his frustration. That or else one of their worker-slaves is maybe making an escape attempt. Unlikely. Took the guards long enough. His mouth tightened. Just not quite long enough for me!
This time it would be no routine search patrol. Despite his abilities, despite his very best efforts, he had left enough of a trail that he had triggered the suspicions of the security forces deployed there.
Or else ... Ayestrom or his meta-powered lackeys already know I’m here.
He clamped down on that alarming idea and tried to think of a way out. Nothing popped to mind.
There was simply no way he could make it up to the mansion unspotted or unchallenged. And there certainly was no possibility of staying where he was.
The pinpricks of light grew bigger. The searchers drew closer.
What can I do?
He had no other choice.
Gritting his teeth, he forced his stiff fingers to pry loose from the ladder’s rungs, and stepped out over the dark emptiness. He hesitated for a fraction, gazing longingly up, where, for just an instant of x-ray focus, he caught a glimpse of the twilit sky above, just beginning to sprinkle with stars. He nearly ached head to toe with his desire to go up, to get out into the air, to escape.
If only he could…
He let go.
Superman fell. He could feel the levels he had paid such a high price to scale fly past his dropping form as surely as he felt the searing wind of his rapid descent as it sent his body into another paroxysm of shivering.
I was so close.
The bottom of the shaft rose up to meet him with terrifying suddenness. Summoning all of his willpower, he exerted every ounce of concentration on slowing his freefall just enough so that when he hit bottom, the noise of the impact wouldn’t carry to the search party now far above him.
Usually the power of flight came so effortlessly to him, perhaps the most joyful of the gifts bestowed upon him from the yellow sun and lighter gravity of his adopted home. But now, it took everything he had in him to simply slow his downward plunge enough to not hurtle straight through the elevator’s roof where it sat at the deepest level.
He was only partially successful. He still felt himself slam into the roof surface, feeling the unaccustomed pain of the bruising impact. But at least he hadn’t gone right through it. Even as he lay stunned for a moment, trying to reclaim his breath, he hoped he’d been able to muffle the sound enough that neither the men above nor anyone outside the elevator doors had heard him. He listened hard.
Nothing happened.
With a sigh of mingled relief and regret, he finally gathered his limbs beneath him and forced himself to his knees, peering down through the floor and around.
Thank goodness some of my abilities are still on track, he thought in gratitude.
‘On track’ may have been a bit of a stretch. Even using x-ray vision was exacting more of a strain and a greater degree of concentration than normal.
Seeing an all clear, he yanked off the trapdoor as quietly as he could and slid through, dropping silently down into the elevator proper. The guards must have been re-posted - he hoped - as he slipped through the doors that opened with their usual hiss. As fast as he could - at normal speed - without drawing notice, he limped down the corridor and into an unoccupied side tunnel. He sank down to the floor, hugging his knees to his chest for warmth, struggling to calm his too-rapidly beating heart.
Great. Right back to where I started.
It was hard not to allow a morose flavour to leak into his thoughts. Don’t be an idiot, Clark, he chastised himself. You won’t do anyone any good like this.
He made a greater effort to beat down the depression and looked around him. Okay. What now?
Well, it wasn’t like he could very well sit here and just give up. So he would have to find another way out. He nodded to himself, determined to not let his willpower waver.
The hostages need me. The League is counting on me.
He thought of the poor denizens of the underground slum, people who were basically slaves to the war machine of Ayestrom.
Actually, it would appear that all of these people need help, he rectified, whether they realize it or not. We can’t let them go on this way.
He lifted his head. He had to keep moving. I’ll just have to find another route out of here, then. And I will.
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To be continued! (and in fact, clicky here for the 2nd half of this part!)
All Previous Parts to JLA: "Necessary Force" can be found right HERE, at the NF Main Page. :-)